Hope in the Hollows
by Ms Western Ink
Summary: Dragged into the lion's mouth Misao finds herself being forcefully wed to the rebel leader of the wild half of the Oniwabanshuu. Repost, AU, AxM
1. Chapter 1

**Hope in the Hollows**

Part I: This Night Never Happened

* * *

Summary: The Okashira was dead. A young leader in the Oniwabanshuu, Shinomori Aoshi, will do anything to acquire power. The young daughter of one of the former leaders may be the key - she may just be trouble.

Note: Misao & Aoshi have never met before, total AU.

* * *

"How are things?"

Okina looked up as Misao stepped in. He hated lying to her, but Misao worried. As much as he would have liked to not tell her anything, he couldn't. If he refused, she would simply rush off on her own pursuit of information.

He sighed heavily, feeling defeated by youth.

"Not any better."

Misao plopped down in front of him. "This Shinomori man is still trying to take over? Who is he, anyway?" She asked, looking expectantly at him.

Okina nodded. "Shinomori Aoshi was an orphan adopted near Tokyo many years ago. He is... ah, some twenty-eight years now I think. So long..."

He sighed.

"The Oniwabanshuu has always made a policy of adopting abandoned children. They are raised to be ninja's and very rarely do they ever stray from the lifestyle they've known all their lives. He was one of those children, much like you. He has worked in Tokyo many, many years. He traveled around for a good period of time and has many followers. As I'm sure you know, after the death of our previous Okashira, Mitsuri- the man after your father, Shinomori made a claim on the leadership. He broke away from the Tokyo branch and then later came back and took over the installation. At present, he demands recognition, citing the previous Okashira's recommendation of him."

"So, he wants to be our leader because Mitsuri-sama gave him a good word? Isn't that good enough?"

Okina shook his head. "No. I have my doubts about it. Shinomori has a far and wide reputation for being, shall we say _merciless_'. It worries me, trusting your future and the others to him."

"Merciless? So, he's a mean guy?"

"I haven't seen him in many years, only rumors reach my ears these days and eyewitness accounts of his operations. They do not seem promising."

Misao frowned. "Do you think he's a bad guy? At heart?"

"There is no way for me to know that," Okina admitted, standing. "But I must think of your future, Misao. If Shinomori becomes the Okashira, your life will be out of my hands. What am I to do, if Shinomori decides to send you out?"

"Hey! I can work just like anybody else!" she protested.

"The female ninja uses all resources to her advantage. Are you ready to sacrifice your body to your work as a spy? To be married off for good relations? To seduce men for information?"

She recoiled slightly. "I'd have to do that?"

He smiled and patted her on the head. "I am hungry, let's go eat."

He turned to leave and she grumbled.

* * *

"'Don't leave the Aoiya without an escort', 'don't linger around town', 'don't walk alone', orders, orders, orders... blah!" Misao muttered as she stomped out of the Aoiya.

She pouted.

She wasn't dragging someone along with her every time she left the Aoiya because Jiya was paranoid. She huffed. Did he think she couldn't take care of herself? That she was incapable? That she was, somehow, less of a ninja than the others?

She grumbled some more.

The path to town wasn't shady or concealed. It was wide open. There weren't even any trees around or anything. What was she supposed to do? Stay cooped up all day?

She yawned, passing under an outdoor arch. There was a garden near here on the way to town. She'd been through the tour once or twice, the arches were strewn throughout.

She was seriously considering detouring in that direction. It was such a beautiful place. Very relaxing, maybe it would calm her down.

She was just about to head in the direction of town when a pair of gloved hands clamped down on her upper arms. She struggled, unable to break free of the restrictive hold.

"Let go!" she growled, crumpling forward when the hands on her arms suddenly released.

She whirled around, ready to fight, already reaching for her kunai. The sight wasn't what she expected.

A man, tall, and beautiful, stood before her. She recognized the cut of his dark clothing as Oniwabanshuu, but the long beige colored was foreign for certain.

She didn't relax entirely. The Oniwabanshuu members were iffy these days, especially if one was unfamiliar with the face or name.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Who are you?" he countered, raising one perfect eyebrow curiously.

How did she get stuck with the weirdoes, she wondered staring at him. Even if he was absolutely gorgeous, that wasn't really the point. He looked dangerous as hell, who knew what he was hiding under that big coat.

She started to back away from him, afraid to turn her back to him when he lunged forward. She opened her mouth, perhaps to scream, perhaps to yell, the motion was wasted.

His hand clamped hard across her lips as he forced her body hard against his yanking her forward. It was incredibly awkward so he whirled her around, pressing her back to his front.

"No more talk."

He changed positions curling his elbow across her mouth anchoring her to him while his other hand snaked up to her neck. Her vision blurred and her head became light before everything suddenly dimmed, and she lost consciousness.

* * *

"This is her? She's so tiny…" The voice was foreign, as was the hand suddenly laid upon her thigh. She tried to shoot up and kick her perverted host or visitor or whoever it was, but she couldn't move.

She felt so heavy.

"Hands off, Beshimi. Do not disrespect Aoshi-sama, this girl belongs to him."

There was another voice. How many people were in the room? What was this room? Was it a room at all? She was laying on something half-way soft, that she did know.

She could hear the wind blowing against the sides of a building, so she was, in fact, indoors.

"She looks so young."

There, that was yet another voice. She was up to three now.

"How old is she?"

Same voice, she knew that one already.

"Sixteen, I believe."

"What's she sound like? Does she have a girlish voice, or a womanly voice?"

**-Whack- **

"I already told you; do not disrespect Aoshi-sama. This girl, her voice and everything else, belong to Aoshi-sama!"

The voice was stern and resolute.

"If you cannot behave yourselves, wait outside."

Her eyes remained closed as she heard the sound of shuffling feet and the slide of a door.

Oh, what happened to her?

"Are you awake yet, Makimachi-san?"

She groaned weakly. Her head hurt. She tried opening her eyes. Who was this that knew her name? Who was that man who'd captured her?

The room seemed bright and hurt her eyes. She looked toward her left where the voice had originated from. Beside her futon sat a man. His arms strangely garbed in striped cloth. Covering his face was a demon mask.

A demon mask…?

Why would he cover his face? She trembled at the possibilities.

"Aoshi-sama is preparing the finalities. Can I bring you anything before we start?"

"What are we starting?" she managed to choke out.

"I am not at liberty to disclose. Perhaps some tea?" he suggested, rising to his feet.

"No," she murmured, feeling defiant, closing her eyes again.

She felt like fighting, but her head ached. She felt like he'd dropped a brick on her head, how had he done that by touching her neck? She didn't really want to know, she thought.

Actually, at a more convenient time she _would_ like to know…

She tried to blink away the pain, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as the place seemed to burst into activity. For the next minute or so people walked in and out of the room, all men, she thought off-handedly.

The masked man came once more and grabbing her hand, pulled her from the futon.

"Come, it is time."

She tried to ask what time it was, but couldn't manage. Her mouth was dry.

She found herself pulled down a set of stairs and into a candlelit room. In front was a priest of some sort and beside him stood the man she recognized as the one who'd accosted her on the road.

She could do little more than stare as she was propelled to where he stood. What was this?

She had a dreadful feeling in pit of her stomach. This was going to be bad, she just knew it.

"Ah, here she is." The priest was an elderly man, with a cheerful smiling face.

"What is going on here?" she asked, her tone suspicious, head cocked to one side in contemplation of the scene.

The priest blinked. "This is a marriage ceremony, my dear."

Her eyes widened and she looked toward the man at her left. "Ooohh nooo!"

Aoshi looked toward the priest. "Begin."

He seemed hesitant, but followed orders and began to speak. Misao, convinced this wasn't happening began to struggle. The priest fumbled, watching Misao uneasily.

The man holding her didn't seem bothered as he tightened his grip. When the man she was apparently _marrying_ moved closer and slipped an arm around behind her, she didn't think too much of it. It seemed more intimate than threatening.

When she felt the point of blade cut straight through the cloth of her garment and press against her skin, she began to worry. Her blood was suddenly pounding in her ears and she trembled. Her skin felt cold.

"Do you – ah, what is your name?"

She grit her teeth together and refused to answer.

"Her name is Makimachi Misao," the man beside her helpfully replied.

"Do you Makimachi agree to this man, Shinomori Aoshi?"

"No," she answered.

The blade pressed closer, cutting her. She gasped in pain, almost recoiling, but unable to do so as the man holding her held firm.

"Are you sure?" Shinomori asked.

His voice was deep, velvety almost, she thought, trying not to focus on the pain. Now her back was bleeding and her head was pounding.

"My answer is no."

Laughter was the last thing she expected. He leaned closer, the blade changing position as he shifted the tip against and then into her skin. She cried out brokenly.

He leaned toward her, pressing his lips against her ear intimately. "You can do terrible, painful things with knives. Those women at the Aoiya, do you think they'd like the feel of my knife, Misao?"

She glared. "You're disgusting."

"Give your word to the priest."

She trembled. How could this man be such a beast? What would cause someone to act so insane? Did he desire power that much?

The knife against her back seemed to twist and her knees almost gave out on her. She felt barely conscious through her haze of pain.

Did she speak?

She did, she realized, a moment later as the priest continued. She saw his lips moving, but she couldn't hear anything. It sounded like wind was rushing past her ears. She could feel the warm wetness of her blood that was now beginning to feel cold as the night air cooled the wet fabric.

Bleeding. She was bleeding, she blinked. The insane hope this was some bad dream seemed too much to ask for, only reality could hurt this much.

Her vision blurred. The priest's face became a blurry glob, no distinguishable features.

Was his mouth still moving?

She no longer felt the knife against her back, how sweet of him. Resentment and anger sprouted deep within her belly and grew. She felt her heat flush in anger, but it only served to make her head feel lighter.

She wobbled only vaguely aware of the sake glass as it was pressed to her lips. The bitter liquid slid down her throat, one or more times. She lost count.

The pain at the back of her head intensified and she prayed for release. She felt her eyes finally drift closed. She sighed contentedly and she was gone.

* * *

AN: Reposted and again alive. Tonight I am editing and adding and changing the general plot line. Sort of. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Hope in the Hollows**

Part II: The Ugly Rays of Dawn

* * *

"You're sure this is the right way to go?" Shikijou asked as he stared at the girl who had collapsed onto the floor.

Her face was pale and drawn. She looked sick and weak. His lips drew back into a frown. She looked so much like a fallen child.

"Misao is important to Okina; he will not have any choice," Hannya replied, his voice perfectly tempered as he watched Aoshi scoop up the girl.

He shrugged his massive shoulders. "Seems cruel. Maybe it's 'cause she looks so little."

"If things continue on as they are, do you not think it wouldn't eventually reach her? That, that small girl there _wouldn't_ be affected?" Hannya countered. "I'm sure Aoshi-sama will not hurt her."

The man turned away, clearing not wanting to discuss it further. "Eh."

"Do not underestimate her. She is one of us," Hannya warned, watching as Aoshi disappeared out the door with his weakened bride.

The young rebel leader stared down at the paled faced female he'd abducted. He didn't want things to be this way. He didn't want to resort to having to take her the way he had, but Okina was not giving him any choice.

He sighed, distraught.

It was even worse that he'd been forced to make threats and physically hurt her. He'd expected her to resist, he hadn't expected_ so much_ resistance. He simply couldn't do _without_ her agreement.

He _needed _this marriage. He needed the ties it offered to him, the strength it would give his claim for leadership.

It was low. His own actions left him grasping for some semblance of sanity. When had he become so crazed? Why couldn't Okina simply agree and authorize his take-over of the Oniwabanshuu?

Why?

Didn't the old mean realize what was going on?

Why did he refuse to acknowledge the fact that the new government was not fond of the Aoiya? Why did he not do something about the fact that their members were being arrested and thrown in jail?

Their entire way of life was being destroyed, families broken up, headquarters sacked… the Oniwabanshuu was crumbling under the weight of the government raids and inquiries.

Why didn't Okina do something about the lock ups and deaths that were slowly adding up to become nothing more than columns of sacrifices to Okina's incompetence.

Better yet, how dare Okina try to force him to ignore what Aoshi **knew** was happening? How could he send his men on missions never knowing who would come back, and not because the mission itself was dangerous, but because his men were being ambushed in the dead of night while sleeping? Because they were being intercepted and walking into government traps?

She, the girl at his feet, could be used. She was a powerful tool, an object that gave him leverage. He wasn't holding her hostage; he'd forced the girl to marry him. He wondered then, which was worse?

He would not, despite his actions thus far, dishonor the girl. He would not keep her hostage and try to force the issue with Okina by threatening physical violence. The threats he'd whispered in her ear nothing but a persuasion method. Cruel and base but effective.

She would have no idea whether or not he was capable of actually cutting up her friends. He took no pride in his methods, but they were all going to be destroyed, her included, if this continued.

There was nothing temporary about this union. He had already determined he was going to keep her. Not only because Okina seemed completely unable to control her, but also because she was the daughter of one of the former Okashira's, a status that would give him a powerful boost. If that weren't enough Misao herself held a surprising amount of sway over many Oniwabanshuu members. A fact he had disbelieved upon hearing of it, and one that had startled him when he'd witnessed the truth of it.

He'd been surprised to see how many people spoke with affection about a girl he'd never laid eyes on before this week.

She groaned uneasily in her sleep, but didn't stir awake.

He stood.

He'd never imagined himself marrying, but whatever thoughts he'd had about it, it hadn't been anything like this. No one ever imagined themselves being wed this way. No one would.

He quietly retreated. He stopped two doors down to pick up the injury kit and came back. Closing the door behind him, he approached her bedside and knelt down.

She was wearing what she always seemed to be wearing when he'd observed her. It was a version of the standard uniform, one that was probably inappropriate given her age, especially given how much of her legs the outfit revealed.

He pulled her up, supporting her against his chest while he pulled the brightly colored tie around her waist, discarding the colorful cloth at his side. He tossed the braid over one shoulder, momentarily wondering how she would look with all that hair pooling over her shoulders and if she would appear more womanly and less childish.

Gripping a handful of the material between her shoulder blades he pulled it down. It slipped off her shoulders easily and he, with some minor difficulty, tugged it off completely. He dropped it carelessly, letting it pool at the base of her back.

Her chest was wrapped in beige colored bindings wrapped tight. He turned her, laying her gently against the futon padding so he could see what he'd so carelessly inflicted upon her.

He hadn't _wanted _to hurt her. Hadn't wanted to cut her at all, he certainly hadn't meant for the ripped and gaping red laceration that confronted him. It was jagged and ugly. Her clothes were bloodied, her skin smeared with red.

But that same skin was so smooth, soft, and feminine. He reached to the side for the cleaning materials. Better to get this over with quickly.

* * *

Misao groaned, stirring awake. There was food nearby. Her body felt like it was on auto: food seeking mode. She could smell it. So sweet smelling….argh, she was hungry!

Her eyes flickered open and she moaned. Her back ached, but at least her headache had vanished.

"Finally awake, Misao?"

The velvet voiced man, she thought, turning her eyes toward him.

"Shinomori Aoshi…" she murmured, testing his name on her tongue. "I heard about you from Jiya."

"Jiya?" he inquired. "You mean, Okina? Hmph." He looked away. "Come, eat."

She turned her head away stubbornly.

"If you won't eat, we'll go to bed early," he made to rise and join her on the futon, but she shot up quickly. She grimaced at the sudden movement. Her back felt like it was on fire. She dragged herself over to him and sat down gingerly at the opposite side of the table.

She shunned the food and instead turned to glare at her captor. "What do you want with me? What kind of pervert kidnaps a girl and forces her to marry him? Since you don't look horrible or disfigured I'll assume it has something to do with the Oniwabanshuu because there's no other reason why you'd pick _me_ for this insane plan."

She waited, but no answer was forthcoming.

"What are you, an ice-block? What do you want with me!" she snapped.

"Eat," he insisted, his eyes and his stare were unblinking and intense.

Fearing he'd threaten her again with _bed_ she obliged, but later she wouldn't be so complacent. She knew what 'bed' meant, and she wanted no part _that_.

She grumbled quietly turning her eyes toward the selection of foods. It looked edible and he was certainly he was eating it.

He probably wouldn't go through the trouble of poisoning her after forcing her to marry him.

She didn't really feel like rushing off to death, but poison sounded like a nice, sensible option instead of going to bed with the psycho across from her. Unless it was a slow poison that caused her to die painfully. Okay, maybe poison _wasn't_ a good option.

How could he seem so calm and collected like that? The man had to be a nut.

_Merciless._

That's what Jiya had called him. He certainly seemed to be that way judging from his methods of obtaining and marrying her.

Jiya had never really told her much about him, she realized. She knew he was an orphan. She also knew he'd been personally involved once with a woman by the name of Takani Megumi and because of her had gotten involved with a foreign man by the name of Takeda Kanyruu.

That, Jiya had stated, was the reason he wouldn't sanction Aoshi as leader. He'd told her Aoshi had almost gotten him and his entire team killed and that mistakes like that, based on personal relationships solely, was not the mark of a leader.

She hadn't really understood and suspected perhaps there was something else going on, but he was firm about the point.

Maybe he hadn't liked this Takani woman, it was impossible to tell.

She picked up a bowl of rice and the plain chopsticks. "Are you going to tell me what I'm here for or stare into your bowl all night?"

Yes, good plan. Pester him with questions _while_ eating, that way he couldn't threaten her, yes, good plan indeed.

His eyes flickered up at her. Cool and meticulous, she thought staring into his eerie blue eyes. They were sharp looking and dangerous peeking out from those dangling obsidian bangs.

No, it was more than '_looked'_ dangerous. It almost gave her chills, but she held her ground and tried to look annoyed. Whether she did, she didn't know.

"It should be obvious," he started.

Oh, but he did have nice voice, didn't he? Why did her villain have to be handsome and have a great voice? She sighed despairingly. Wasn't that always the way - the bad guys are irresistible? Or, was she just listening to Okon and Omasu too much lately?

"You are a Makimachi, the same blood as our previous leader."

His beautiful voice brought her back to her grim reality.

"That's just low," she snapped between bites. "Besides, he's dead."

Hmmm, this was good food, she thought. She was really hungry. How long had it been since she'd eaten anything?  
The man, Shinomori, ignored her.

Dinner came and went much too quickly for Misao. Before she knew it he was picking up the tray and he was gone. Not that she was bothered by his absence. It was his presence she _didn't_ want.

Unfortunately, to add to her ridiculously bad day, he came back directly, empty handed.

Without the slightest word to her he stripped off his long western style coat and began unbuckling his belt beneath. The belt at his _waist._

She felt her blood run cold.

No way…

He wasn't…

They weren't…

She didn't …

She felt light headed all over again.

It wasn't really going to be this way, was it?

Oh no!

Of course they _were_ married, but she didn't want to get caught on the details. She didn't want to be _intimate _with this man. What was with this crazy out stranger who'd hurt her and now wanted to take her virginity?

The jerk! Who did he think she was? Who did he think _he_ was, forcing this on her?

She pulled herself to her feet, the injury on her back but a dull echoing pain in light of her new panic.

"Um… You're not … really…" she trailed off unable to voice her worries. Afraid of looking childish and yet praying for that very same thing at the same time.

Praying desperately. Maybe if she looked childish enough, he'd change his mind. She been teased about her youthful appearance before, but hadn't cared too much. She wasn't interested in boys, because boys meant marriage.

He dropped the belt on the floor and paused, turning those dangerous eyes toward her.

"You should come to the marriage bed willing, it will be much easier on you that way."

She paled, suddenly feeling small, cold, and desolate.

The man was out of his mind.

The man was crazy.

The man was… he was undressing!

She watched him peel the dark colored material off his chest. It pooled on the floor at his feet, but he made no moves to take off what remained. Instead, he looked toward her. Bare from the chest up, just staring at her.

She backed up, pressing herself flush against the wall in sheer terror. She prayed she'd faint, but she was all too conscious.

She tried to tell herself this wouldn't kill her, she'd be okay in the end, but it didn't work.

Her heart pounded, her teeth practically chattered, her knees felt weak – she direly wanted anything but to be where she was.

A rescuer, someone, anyone, but no one would come. No one knew where she was.

There were scant more than two steps between them and he bridged them effortlessly. She tried to think, her mind racing, how to escape, how to escape. No solutions were forthcoming.

His hands were so big, she thought as he pressed them down against her shoulders. They were achy, she probably had bruises from whoever had been holding her at the ceremony, and she'd always bruised ridiculously easy.

His hands slid down to her waist and with a flick of his wrist her sash again met the floor. Her yukata fell open down the front and a breath of cold air wafted against her skin beneath.

Her mouth fell open.

Of all the things to happen to her.

Why her?

Why?

His hands pressed and smoothed across the dark material, sliding it off her shoulders and she trembled in the night air as it glided over her skin.

Her entire body was tense, she realized, with sudden clarity. Her back was beginning to ache from the stiff, hard position she was standing in.

She could do little more than gasp as he pulled her toward the futon mat and pushed her onto it.

She was mildly relieved at not having to stand, but any relief she felt was fleeting as he pulled at the hem of her little shorts and crawled over her.

Her panic welled up once again, threatening to consume. She fought the tears, she wouldn't cry.

She wouldn't cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hope in the Hollows**

Part III: Okina & The Okashira

* * *

Aoshi repressed a yawn as he made his way downstairs. His legs ached each time he moved, shifting with his footsteps. Misao, for a girl so small, could kick surprisingly hard. Kicked she had, she'd gotten him good at least four times.

She'd been complacent until he'd gotten her to the futon. She looked small and victim-like but then her eyes seemed to burn and she'd started fighting like a animal. They were both leaving the encounter sore, albeit in different areas, but sore was sore.

Not the way he'd wanted it to go, but she wasn't cooperating with anything he wanted. The girl was a damn wild card. It was no small wonder Okina couldn't control the girl.

Being raised a ninja she should have been disciplined instead of being spoiled and turning into her present disheveled state. He could send her nowhere alone.

Hannya stood by an open doorway near the kitchen. "You look almost rosy this morning, Aoshi-sama. Have a pleasant evening with your new wife?"

Aoshi's bland expression twitched. "Many things, Hannya," Aoshi replied looking toward the window. "But not pleasant."

Hannya's quiet laughter followed him as he turned to leave.

"What now?" The masked Oniwabanshuu ninja inquired.

"Okina will know by now that I have Misao and what I've done with her. It's only a matter of time until he concedes."

"How do you know? Perhaps Okina will not concede? Perhaps he just writes the girl off?"

"Impossible. She is the former Okashira's only child, the only surviving Makimachi."

"So, we keep the girl until Okina agrees to hand over the Oniwabanshuu to your control? Then what? What do you have planned for her?"

"Her?" Aoshi paused, turning his gaze back to his temporary headquarters where Misao was still laying abed. He could still envision her lying among the scattered sheets of the futon, looking pale and sweet. She'd stayed awake a long time, but she hadn't cried. He waited for her to sleep, waited to see if she'd cry, praying she didn't.

That was one thing he direly didn't want on his conscience, the sound of her tears.

"She's my wife. I intend to keep her," he replied stiffly. Keep her he would, it was far too late to go back and he wasn't sure he'd want to.

Misao, in all her wildness, was still a power figure and he was not a dishonorable man. He had bedded her and it had solidified their union. She was his now. Learning how to tame the girl would prove to be a worthwhile diversion from his work.

"I see. You've become fond of the girl?"

Aoshi turned away. "All of the ninjas still under Okina's control hold a deep love for Misao, doing anything to harm her would result in another break of loyalty and we can't afford that."

Hannya nodded.

"I'm going to the Aoiya. Protect Misao while I am gone."

"Of course, Okashira."

Whatever Hannya may have thought about his leader's decision, he opted to keep silent.

* * *

Okina yawned as he sat up in his bed. Sleep had brought him nothing but unpleasant dreams and tauntings of failure. He should not have let Misao wander around freely in this dangerous time especially with Shinomori trying to claim the leadership so rabidly. Because of that she'd been snatched right out from beneath him.

He'd heard just last night the fate that had befallen his beautiful girl. Shinomori had forced her into marrying him to legitimize his claim on the leadership.

He hadn't realized the young man would stoop so low as to kidnap Misao. Did Shinomori have so little respect for the former Okashira as to abuse his daughter in such a way?

He sat up. His old bones ached and that was always trouble. Stress made him weary on days like this; he would be plagued with a headache for the rest of the day.

Rising from his bed with a mighty groan he dressed and headed down. There was but one course of action to take. Shinomori Aoshi would be inducted as the Okashira, but only on _one _condition.

He would approve Aoshi becoming the Okashira only upon the annulment of his marriage to Misao.

It was the only thing he could depend on that would work. The final straw left in his tired old hand. He direly hoped it would be enough to save his little girl from Aoshi.

He hadn't seen the boy in years and he feared what he heard about him from the rumors that trailed back to the Aoiya. Misao would not be safe in the hands of such a blood-dirtied man.

* * *

Aoshi sat, staring into his tea quietly. The Aoiya was such a quiet place during this part of the day. The restaurant was still, but pleasant. The Aoiya had been established by the former Okashira as a Kyoto headquarters during the war. As it turned out, the place hadn't been as necessary as he'd thought and once the fighting died away, the Aoiya had become a home for the displaced ninja's in the area.

The Aoiya remained, as of yet, an unknown base to the new government. It was serving as a safe-house.

Misao had been born a ninja and raised one. He suspected that girl, who had spent her entire life at the Aoiya, would never want to leave the ninja world even if she knew of the government problems. He suspected strongly that she had no idea what was happening outside.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" The waitress was a cheery woman, one he didn't know. Her hair was pulled up into a familiar hair style. He'd seen the same on hundreds of other women time and time again on the street.

She had a slight twinkle to her eye, but looked largely just like any other woman in a kimono. "I wish to see Okina. Please tell him Shinomori Aoshi is here."

She gasped, a weak, but clearly surprised sound, paling slightly but nodding all the same before she walked off to fetch him.

The Aoiya workers, they too, must be ninjas. It made good sense, employing only those who were of the organization. A wise security measure indeed. The bumbling old man seemed downcast as he made his appearance, tottering across the restaurant several minutes later. His expression was bland, but noticeably strained, and his walk was a slow one.

"I've been expecting you, Shinomori." Aoshi nodded. Okina's voice was sharp and crisp. "You expect to gain favor by stealing Misao?"

The waitress was standing some distance away and now there was another by her side. Both appeared to be watching avidly, were they worried for Okina's safety?

"She is the Okashira's heir."

"Misao inherits the Aoiya, she doesn't inherit the Oniwabanshuu. Your actions are dishonorable. I am ashamed of you."

Aoshi looked away as though the action would lessen the sting of the older man's words. He knew perfectly well how his actions would be seen, he didn't want to hear it, but he had been prepared for it. "I have not mistreated her."

"You forced her to wed you, did you not?"

"That matter is not up for discussion, it is done," Aoshi replied tersely. "I am here about the leadership position."

Okina nodded. "So it is. I will agree to endorse your place as Okashira and have you inducted as our new leader on one condition."

"Name it," Aoshi stated, completely willing to fulfill any obligation.

"The annulment your marriage to Misao." Aoshi blinked. Annulment? No, he thought. He had never thought of that. The very possibility hadn't even occurred to him.

"It is law that marriages by force can be annulled. Release Misao from the vows forced on her, and the position is yours."

Aoshi tossed the thought around. If he annulled his wedding with Misao the girl herself would be disgraced. He had consummated their union; there was no way to go back from that. This girl, Misao, was the daughter of the former Okashira. The flesh and blood of his former loved and respected leader - he could not, on good conscience, simply abandon her on his quest for power. There were other ways, he would think of something.

He held no particular affinity for the girl, but as an Oniwabanshuu member also, he would not sacrifice her to his cause.

"I cannot," he answered after a long pause.

"You insist upon taking both Misao and the Oniwabanshuu?" Okina asked, voice rising in anger.

It was convenient the Aoiya was empty of customers, save for them, he thought suddenly, peering around. The waitresses were still watching.

"Misao is my wife. As her husband it is my right to take her to my bed, returning her to an unmarried state would be dishonorable. Misao will remain my wife." That would simply be that, he thought, watching Okina's expression change.

Okina's jaw fell. "I see. I did not think you were so serious about this marriage to her." He frowned, turning his gaze out the window. There was a deep, long crease across the old man's brow, relaying his worry and disappointment.

Okina, it seemed, truly loved the girl.

"I've known you a very long time, Aoshi. I'm very disappointed in you." The words were soft spoken, full of regret and genuine hurt.

The old man stood. "I have raised Misao since she was barely able to talk. I wanted her to be happy above everything else."

Aoshi met his gaze boldly, not willing - unable- to back down.

"Very well, I suppose I have no choice. I will not allow you to make her anymore miserable on my account. Two days from tomorrow we will hold the ceremony and I will turn over the Aoiya to you. But I need time, two days from tomorrow," he repeated.

Okina turned, hobbling away. He looked very old, Aoshi noted, very stressed. He had no doubts he was the one causing Okina's distress. He felt no swell of pride over the victory; his tactics had been underhanded and low. He was ashamed of his own actions, but he did what he felt was necessary.

Okina couldn't lead the Oniwabanshuu. He couldn't see to Misao's safety, that slip of a girl whose fiery spirit had left him bruised.

His thoughts turned suddenly to her. What would she think now? What would she have to say of him being her leader? The girl had fought him tooth and nail the whole way. She would have a scar for the rest of her life from the blade he'd threatened her with at the temple, forcing her to agree to the vows.

He repressed a grimace at the thought remembering the terrible shuddering of her body against his. The first feel of being inside his new wife a bitter and tainted memory, worse so when he remembered the expression on her face or the horrible, broken gasp that escaped her lips.

Her struggles had ceased after that point, but it hadn't mattered. Neither of them had welcomed or wanted the joining. It was forced, awkward, and painful. More so for her than for him, but he didn't expect either of them would be recovering or replaying the situation any time soon.

The vivid images of the previous night left him feeling cold. Memories of the bruises around her wrists and her hips caused him to recoil sharply when he'd laid his eyes upon her in the early sunlight.

Two days from tomorrow, he thought pushing thoughts of Misao aside, standing. He quickly settled his bill and headed out. The wait was almost over.

* * *

She ached. Her whole body ached. She sat up, rubbing her sore muscles. She could tell already it was going to be a lousy day. It must be well past noon already, she thought, staring out the window. The room was absent of Aoshi, no doubt off trying to manipulate Jiya again.

She hung her head guiltily. If she'd just listened instead of rushing off doing whatever she wanted, she wouldn't be in this position now. She wouldn't be here, rubbing aching muscles or staring at bruised wrists.

But, she never listened.

Never did what she was told to do.

Never opted for following the directions of her elders. She looked around, pulling the sheets around her frame more completely.

The only thing about was a sleeping robe that belonged to _him. _She dropped the robe and stared at the purple marks on her hips. She remembered the hands that had put them there with startling detail. Her entire body ached in remembrance. She could still remember what it felt like having him inside her and she grimaced.

She pulled on the garment, for the moment not caring who it belonged to, tying the strings and sash at the waist. She glanced around, looking out the window. Could she get out of here? She looked down over the tiled roof. It wasn't that much of a jump, she could make it. Question was: who was waiting at the bottom. She paced for fifteen minutes before determining she didn't care, she was going for it.

Pulling open the window she stepped out onto the slippery tiles, kneeling down as she pulled the window as close to closed as she could. She looked, peering down over the edge. There were guards out front. Out back was an open courtyard that didn't meet with a tree-line for at least twenty-five yards. It wasn't that far of a run unless someone spotted her.

She took a deep breath and moved to the opposite end. This side of the building was shadowed and there was a tall bamboo fence around the back. Maybe she could slink along the shadowed area of the fence, but that too was risky. The only chance she seemed to have was a straight run. She didn't know where the windows were from up here, at least, she didn't want to chance falling off trying to see if there were windows.

Coming up toward another side she peered down. It looked abandoned. This was it; she was going to drop off here. She pulled up the robe even higher. If anyone saw her they'd think she lost her mind, but she didn't care.

She silently leaped down, bracing herself for impact, and possibly shouts and bodies hurling themselves at her. The impact came but the shouts and attackers didn't follow. She looked around. Were they really this lax with security? She blinked in astonishment. Even Jiya would have had a prisoner guarded, outside and in. She shook her head, glancing around once more. It was time go head out, she thought, pulling a grin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hope in the Hollows**

Part IV: Prisoner of Love? Me? Forget it!

* * *

Aoshi repressed a yawn as he returned; the trip had been longer than he thought. He could really use some sleep, but work beckoned.

Shikijou and Hyokkotto were outside engaged in some type of scuffle. He watched them a moment as they grappled, hands on each others shoulders, pushing back and forth in a power struggle. The sight wasn't unusual, food shortages, accidents, or anything even slightly food related often came down to these meaningless fights that went nowhere.

"Admit it; you stole the last rice ball!"

"I didn't steal anything! You stole it! Beshimi saw you!"

"Beshimi didn't see anything, 'cause he wasn't there!"

He turned, stepping into the building. It was unusually quiet, but that didn't necessarily mean trouble. He began heading down the straight hall, discarding his shoes at the doorway.

As he approached, Hannya appeared at the opposite end of the corridor, and leaned himself against the frame leisurely.

"Go well, Aoshi-sama?"

"Okina has agreed."

Hannya's expression was hidden, his only response was silence.

"How is Misao?" Aoshi asked, feeling the necessity to inquire after the troublesome girl. He'd left her just this morning strewn among his bedding to wake up alone and aching. He couldn't imagine how she felt and he didn't want to know.

Hannya paused, faltering in his answer. The pause caused Aoshi some consternation.

"Has something happened to her?"

It didn't seem strange that something _would_ happen to a girl like that. Proof of that was what he himself had done to her, the kidnapping and all. She seemed like such an easy target, a definite bad sign for one who was _supposed_ to be an Oniwabanshuu member unless it was a ruse.

Unfortunately, it wasn't for her.

"No, however, we did catch her trying to escape." Hannya replied. "She jumped out the upper window. She was intercepted when she attempted to escape across the back courtyard. She leapt into the water and almost drowned. She's been quietly sitting upstairs ever since."

Aoshi frowned.

"I suggested she change, but since we had no women here, I just left her to handle herself. I gave her one of the yukata's I found in the clean laundry bins."

Aoshi almost sighed. Why did he feel like he was having the others watching her as though she were a child?

He knew very little about _Shinomori _Misao. Historically, he knew only that she was the daughter of the previous Okashira. Misao's mother had been a junior ninja, a young girl around fourteen years of age. The sickly girl had been a favorite of the lecherous leader, and his interest in her ultimately led to her pregnancy with Misao.

He understood the woman had been weak from infancy and she hadn't survived the birthing. Misao had been named by her mother on her deathbed. The leader had been prepared to send the girl away to an orphanage, but was persuaded by Okina to let her stay. Misao was moved with Okina to Kyoto when the Aoiya was built.

Misao had not been a wanted child. That he knew, he'd found the diaries of the previous leader in an old box in the former headquarters near Tokyo. He'd read through the books before tossing them into the fire. He would never want her to find out how perverted and twisted a man her father had truly been.

Despite his character's shortcomings, the previous Okashira had been a great man. Powerful and strong, he led his men bravely, never failing to meet their expectations.

Her background was one matter, her character was quite another.

He'd observed her for a week before snatching her, having thought out his plan ahead of time. The girl was headstrong and stubborn; she didn't take orders well and could be loud and boisterous. Aside from her strong character, she also appeared to be protective of both the Aoiya and the other Oniwabanshuu members who lived there. She seemed the type to be the first to jump into action.

Unfortunately, that also made her likely to jump into danger.

She'd attempted to resist him. She'd fought him all the way, but she'd had little choice but to concede.

He took to the stairs preparing himself to meet hurling objects. He wasn't quite sure what she'd do when she saw him again. She was, in some aspects, quite unpredictable.

When he'd left that morning she'd been asleep beside him, looking deceptively innocent.

He slid open the door. She was standing by the window, her back to him.

The temporary room was sparse, practically empty. He never liked being surrounded by lots of things and usually only kept the necessities and a small table for tea.

The girl seemed almost desolate standing there by the open window, staring out vacantly. She looked almost like a prisoner in the near empty room, as though she were too dangerous to be in a room more adequately furnished.

She hadn't moved in the slightest, he concluded she must have heard the hissed sound of the door sliding open.

He stepped in, pushing the door closed behind him.

There was a table and tea set by the door. Someone had obviously attempted to communicate with Misao or make contact or something. It didn't appear to have worked as the tea set was untouched and looked stone cold.

"Misao."

She didn't move. She kept herself turned away. Her clothes, he noted, had obviously been changed. She was wearing the garment described by Hannya. It was, obviously, not his own, the color was far too bright for his tastes. The hem of the garment was pooled around her feet making her seem tiny. It very likely belonged to one of the younger boys who kept the informal clothing for going into town.

Her hair, still wet from her lake dive, hung down her back. Lengths and lengths of it, he thought, staring at the dark waterfall of hair. Hadn't he wanted to know how she would look with that loose? He couldn't really tell anything other than that it was long. Her expression was outward, her gaze directed to the scene beyond the window.

She pulled her arms up crossing them in front of her as thought impatient with his presence.

He didn't have time to baby her. He turned away, looking back toward the tea set. He might as well take it away; she wasn't going to use it.

"Your behavior is childish and will not be tolerated. Okina has conceded, two days from now I will be inducted as the Okashira. You will be returning to the Aoiya on that day."

Nothing.

He picked up the tray and headed out. She had yet to even twitch and that had to be unusual.

* * *

"Who was that man?"

Okina sighed as he reached for his cup. "Shinomori Aoshi is a man from Tokyo. I've known him since he was a boy."

"You mean the man who is trying to take over the Oniwabanshuu?" Omasu inquired, wringing a towel in her hands.

Okina nodded. "That was him."

"What!" Okon snapped. "He came alone and you just let him walk out?"

"He is not a man that can be detained. Trying to keep him here or trying to force him to release Misao would have met with failure."

"You mean he has Misao?" she continued, tossing a panicked look toward Omasu.

"Oh, this is not good. Is she okay? Did he say? Is she coming back? Why can't we go rescue her?" Omasu murmured plopping down onto a cushion.

"Misao is fine; I am not worried about her safety. I am, however, worried about her state of mind when she returns."

Both women looked up, distraught. "What do you mean?"

"He sought to legitimize his claim for leadership by marrying Misao. I gave him the conditions - dissolve his marriage to Misao and I will support his movement. He refused."

"What does he want her for!"

Okina shook his head. "Misao was forced to marry Shinomori. He will not dissolve the marriage because it has been consummated. I worry then, if Misao is unwell."

Horrified gasps met his announcement. The women exchanged knowing looks. "Can you imagine? The poor girl! Is she coming back? Can we see her?"

"In two days Shinomori will become the Okashira, our leader. He says Misao will remain his wife, I suppose we will, eventually, get to see her again."

* * *

Misao shivered. The room was cold, maybe it was just because her hair was still wet. She pouted. Why did it always seem like something bad always happened to her?

She sighed. Maybe she could try escaping again? At least she knew not to go the way of the backyard again. Night was setting in; perhaps she could escape in the dim light. It didn't seem like a kooky plan, maybe it would work.

Running across the back had been a bad idea. She'd been spotted when she darted over toward the fence only to find herself backed up against a body of water. She didn't know how to swim, never had been able to learn. It was somewhat irritating, she hated having so great a weakness, but every time she got in the water, she panicked.

She always determined she would learn 'later', but later never came.

Feeling absolutely desperate she'd jumped in the water. She'd heard from Jiya that he'd learned how to swim when his father threw him in the water and said 'learn or drown'. Crude, but, maybe it would work.

She'd tried. She leaped in boldly and began splashing, praying for divine intervention to keep her from sinking. It came to nothing, she'd panicked once more and after several painful inhalations of dirty water she'd been hauled up into strong, striped arms.

Oh yeah, that had been great. Not only was it embarrassing, it was weird. The man who'd come after her ended up in more than a chest deep water, and both of them were soaking and cold. Not only that he wore a mask across his face she felt was a little more than intimidating.

He walked her back inside, past the curious onlookers, most of whom looked astonished. She pouted the whole way. He didn't say so much as a word until he set her feet upon the polished wooden floor of the upstairs bedroom she'd escaped from not ten minutes earlier. Then it had been nothing more than some fluff statement about changing her clothes. He'd returned a moment later bearing a garment.

She'd determined not to change, but in the end she was too cold and sacrificed her pride to stop her shivering.

Maybe bad things didn't just happen, maybe she was inviting bad things to happen to her. She sighed. Lousy, stupid - she sighed again.

She was willing to try again though. Willing to give it another shot. They hadn't physically injured her, so she really didn't have any deterrent. He hadn't even reprimanded her. That Aoshi guy hadn't even mentioned the 'near escape' incident. Maybe he didn't care. She didn't doubt it. To him, she was nothing but something to be used. She scowled.

Used indeed. She wasn't going to settle for being someone's tool. She was better than that. She raised her hand, balling her hand into a fist in a wild, dramatic motion.

"Ah ha!"

That settled it. She was going for it. Gripping the window, she pulled it open once more. No around back route this time.

Her feet slid on the tiles as she pulled the window closed. She glanced around, sliding down to the edge and then peering about before slipping off. She hit the ground, luckily just missing dropping down in front of a window pane.

She looked around, trying not to breathe too hard. Her heart was pounding like crazy. She didn't want to go back in there, not with that Shinomori guy.

Definitely not.

She peered around. Fence, back courtyard, front courtyard, trees - she took a deep breath. That was probably her best shot, the trees.

Bad thing was, it was also the area most likely being patrolled by the ninjas of this base. Enemies would always hide in the trees near a base, it was a given.

She was choosing the most dangerous path. Unfortunately, she didn't have any other option. If she attempted to cross the courtyard someone would see her for sure and she wasn't about to go crawling along the ground by the low wall fence in the front, no way!

* * *

AN: Posted as I go along... or when I make time. The editing is going fairly well. It's turning into something better than it was before. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Hope in the Hollows**

Part V: Flight

* * *

Movement first caught his attention, the sound of movement above floors. He sat still, listening.

What was she doing up there? Trying to escape him again? He flew toward the door leaving the others staring at him in wonder as he bolted off without explanation.

"How many women have ever been so adamant about escaping Aoshi-sama?"

Three sets of curious eyes turned toward Hannya and laughter followed.

* * *

Outside, Aoshi waited, watching her slink across the yard. This girl really was very troublesome. He was torn.

Take her back to the Aoiya or keep her for two more days? If he took her back he knew she wouldn't be trying to escape, but she would, most likely, keep walking around like a mindless little spirit, oblivious to the world's dangers. If he kept her here though, it might only end up damaging what little of a relationship they had.

The girl wouldn't look at him, she flinched whenever he looked even close to coming near her and she refused to eat unless he threatened her. Her stubbornness was _not _cute.

Hannya, however, seemed to find the entire situation amusing. Since he'd returned from the Aoiya, Hannya had been making sly remarks about the 'cuteness' of his new bride. So, maybe she was cute, that small frame and those big, lovely eyes.

She was still difficult to manage. She didn't like or respect him, he didn't expect this would change when he became the Okashira in a couple of days, but he hoped it would. If she wouldn't respect her place in their marriage, he hoped her place in the Oniwabanshuu meant something to her.

She darted behind a tree and he almost grinned. Sometimes it seemed so hard to believe this girl was actually a ninja.

He followed after as he had no other choice. She was vulnerable out here in the wilderness if anyone recognized her. As far as he could tell the girl was weaponless and her succeeding in breaking any physical attack was unlikely.

He continued to trail her, wondering just how far she intended to go and where she was going to.

The Aoiya seemed the most obvious choice, so he was surprised when she went the opposite direction.

Was she lost? Had she figured out he was following her and wanted to throw him off? What was she doing?

In a move that absolutely stunned him, she left the tree cover and darted out into the dirt path and began running. She had the yukata pulled up around her knees, her hair flying behind her.

Reckless, what a reckless girl, he thought before giving chase.

His suspicions proved wrong as she darted back into the trees and he realized why. A large lake prevented passage and she'd opted to go around. Ahead, he spotted a wooden structure.

It was small.

He was not familiar with the location, so he doubted it to be an Oniwabanshuu building. He'd poured over maps of all their meeting houses. This then, belonged to someone else.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

What was this place?

She reached the door, almost slamming her body against it before it buckled under the pressure almost broke. It was frail and old, she threw it open. It was pitch black inside. Was no one within? He waited and watched, but no lights came on in the building.

He felt no persons inside except her.

Was she meeting someone here?

Did she escape here because maybe she thought he thought she'd go the Aoiya and she just wanted to get away from him?

The silly girl would freeze to death in a place like this. He stood, quietly approaching the darkened shack. He circled the building checking for exits. There was no backdoor he could discern in the darkness.

Approaching around the front again he tried the door. It was neither blocked nor locked. He pushed it open, hoping it was silent, to his luck, it was.

He could hear her breathing, heavy and hard. She couldn't be sleeping, but she wasn't moving either.

Could she not see him? Were her eyes closed?

"Do you hate me so much?" he asked his voice loud in the still silence of the night.

She didn't respond, only the sound of her labored breathing filled his ears.

"Two days from now I will be your Okashira-"

"I do not need reminders of that, thank you very much!" she snapped. "You _already _told me."

He was surprised at her cutting him off so rudely. The other women at the Aoiya, Omasu and Okon, they did not behave this way. It reaffirmed his suspicion that Misao had been spoiled, something he was more than willing to break her of.

She didn't wear kimonos, she didn't wear make-up, and she didn't engage in elaborate hairstyles. She didn't do anything he could contribute as remotely 'feminine'.

"Do you always behave so?" he asked, knowing in advance what her answer would be.

"Behave what?" she asked.

"As you are now?"

She snorted. "I don't care about what you think on how I should behave. I get enough lectures about that already."

"Do you not have a weapon?" He put matters of her manners aside for now; he would come back to it later for sure.

In fact, he already had an idea or two for her and she wasn't going to like either.

"..." To that, she didn't respond. He, therefore, concluded it was a negative. Why the girl hadn't been given a weapon, he could not fathom. She was not physically strong enough to defend herself without one. Even with one, it would be a task for her.

"Two days from today you will return to the Aoiya. I have business elsewhere; while I'm gone someone will stay and train with you. When I return, I expect you will be skilled fluently with some type of weapon to defend yourself. "

She turned her head up. All he could see in the extremely dim light was the movement and even that was blurred by darkness.

"Oh."

Oh? Well, better than nothing, he determined. He heard her movement, feet scuffling across the floor.

She made to move past him, but he held out a hand, catching her by the waist.

"I don't want to be married to you," she stated calmly.

Her voice was soft as she relayed to him what he already knew. He didn't say anything; there was nothing he could say anyway. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her from the little building.

"Don't leave without permission again. The next time you attempt to escape me, you'll be punished."

She didn't respond and he didn't look back to see her expression as he pulled her along like a scolded child.

* * *

The place was eerie when it was so quiet. She peered around. It was creepy when it _wasn't_ quiet, too. Maybe because she was alone and defenseless in this strange place surrounded by male ninjas, none of whom she knew.

She shook off the thought.

She stepped down off the last stair. The wooden floors of the building were cold and drafty. She wondered if there was any heating in the place. It looked empty, but she knew better.

All of her escapes had been foiled by the bumbling ninjas in this place; there was no way the place was abandoned with her still in it. She couldn't be that lucky.

"Good morning, Shinomori-san."

She blinked, looking up at the masked man from before. She glanced around. Was... he talking to her? He must be, she determined, she didn't see her _husband_ anywhere.

"Ah, could you not call me that?" she asked, shifting awkwardly.

She was still dressed in the clothing this man had brought her the previous night after the lake incident.

"How should I address you?"

"Anything but 'weasel girl' is okay," she replied with a casual wave of her hand. She hated that nickname, positively despised it.

"Weasel girl?" he repeated.

She scowled. "Don't call me that!" she warned. "So where's the idiot? The one I'm _married_ to?"

The masked man's position shifted. She was guessing he was amused given that he didn't seem tense or angry.

"Aoshi-sama has stepped out for the moment. He has asked me to look over you. My name is Hannya."

She cocked her head, crossing her arms. "Is that your real name or a fake name?"

He didn't seem offended, but how could one tell?

"Never mind," she said, looking away. "Probably shouldn't have asked anyway."

He didn't seem to mind the subject change. "Did you sleep well? Perhaps some breakfast? We don't actually have much; our cook was injured when some of the others got carried away in the kitchen yesterday."

He turned, attempting to lead her and she followed.

She entered the dining room behind him uneasily. The men at the table were all stuffing their faces. Two of them were absolutely huge!

She stood in silent awe watching them scarf down plate after plate of raw vegetables until she was noticed.

"Good morning, Shinomori-san."

She blinked. "Agh, don't call me that!"

The men at the table stared at her in wonder, but nodded in agreement.

She stared at the spread of vegetables a moment, a smile forming, and laughter followed.

"You seriously can't cook at all? Not even a pot of rice?"

"The men are far too busy to know such domestic tasks." Hannya was quick to defend the helpless men at the table.

"For your line of work, you should know how to cook," she argued.

"This is true," Hannya agreed. "But wilderness cooking and domestic cooking are very different."

She shrugged. "Maybe so. I don't do much of either." She paused, looking back toward him. "So, what am I supposed to do while the ogre is gone?"

Some snickers escaped the mouths of the seated men. She ignored them.

"Aoshi-sama did not leave specific instructions for you, other than that you were not to leave the premises."

She shook her head weakly. "What a-"

"What a what?" She froze, glancing toward the doorway, there he stood. What amazing timing... It just figured he'd show up like that.

She was not going to suck up to this man, screw him. He wasn't her Okashira.

Yet.

"Ah, nothing." She waved it off. "What am I supposed to do while here?"

"What do you usually do at the Aoiya?" Aoshi stepped past her to look at the breakfast table.

She watched, curious if he too would partake of the vegetable feast.

"Wait tables, send messages, handle bills, start fights with the customers, anything Jiya tells me to really."

"He tells you to start fights with the customers?"

He might've sounded amused, she couldn't tell.

"No, I do that on my own, but they're usually asking for it."

Aoshi's mouth quirked up into a grin.

"Do you cook?"

She paused. "Yeah, I can cook. The Aoiya _is _a restaurant."

"Then cook."

He looked back and their eyes met. "I don't like cooking," she replied, crosing her arms defiantly.

She met his gaze boldly, his eyes were intense and she didn't like the possiblities. She quickly decided that cooking, alone, in the kitchen, was a better alternative to staring him down.

"Okay, cooking it is."

She swept off only to reappear moments later.

"Where's the kitchen?"

* * *

AN: There you have chapter 5. Starting chapter 8 this is a whole new story... Questions?

Responses:

JadeGoddess: If the marriage has been consummated it cannot be anulled. Aoshi had to make sure that Okina could not use that against him, he had no choice in the matter.

Other: Thank you! I hope the story is stronger this time around as two people mentioned, last time it was really weak and I was hating it as it progressed. Brand new elements, more characters and greater plot should improve it considerably.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hope in the Hollows**

Part VI: Where's Your Smile?

* * *

Note: Don't pay any attention to strange titles, they don't mean anything.

* * *

Hannya was delighted.

"She's a cute girl, I do like her."

Aoshi cast a glance back toward the building but didn't reply. That was good at least, Hannya approved of her. Nothing bad could come of that.

"Will you be gone long, Aoshi-sama?"

"Until tomorrow evening. She's bound to become bored in the kitchen, when she does, take her to the courtyard and test her. Misao's skills seem weak and she does not seem to be trained with a weapon."

"Truly? None?" Hannya asked, surprised.

Aoshi nodded.

"See how she does and think of something for her to learn. If she is cooperative enough, perhaps attempt training her with it. Don't teach her anything deadly."

"Of course." Hannya bowed. "I will keep her completely safe in your absence."

Aoshi inclined his head and started off.

She was really was a cute girl, Hannya thought, recalling the look on Aoshi's face at breakfast. It was so rare he saw his leader's amusement. Despite her bounciness, he was sure the girl would be good for him. No sooner had he stepped in the door was he met with the girl herself, smudged and half wet.

"Okay, that does it! That guy in there! He has to go!" she all but shouted, making grand motions with her hands dripping some kind of thick batter off her fingertips.

Hannya chuckled.

Ah, correction. This girl would be good for everyone.

* * *

"No, that is wrong."

His voice was stern and demanding.

"Again," he insisted and she complied dropping back down into her kenpo stance.

"No," he stopped before she could begin.

He stepped closer readjusting her position and then giving her the cue to start.

She went through her motions once again as her masked companion watched.

"No, that is wrong."

She growled. "Well tell me what's wrong with it!" she snapped. "What do you want me to do, guess!"

Hannya remained calm, barely containing his mirth. He hadn't trained someone with so much energy in a long time. Of course, she was also rowdy and disobedient, but he was willing to let it slide for the moment.

"Come now," he urged. "Be serious. You wish to have some improvement to show Aoshi-sama when he returns, do you not?"

She crossed her arms and huffed. "That man is an ogre. I don't care what he thinks."

He suspected this wasn't true, whatever she said about it, but didn't press. She was quite a prideful little thing, and her relationship with Aoshi-sama didn't seem that bad. Or, that bad at least. He didn't think the girl would be trying to kill him while he slept or, for that matter, kill him at all and that was good.

He had noticed, however, she had tried to avoid direct contact with him before he'd left, but perhaps that wasn't to be unexpected. She was young and the situation was stressful for her. She did not know Aoshi-sama as he did and he needed to remember that. They were all strangers to her.

Either way, he was not interested in meddling into their personal affairs.

"Very well, how about Okina at the Aoiya? Surely, you would like to impress him and the others there?"

She turned a bit, frowning. "Yeah, I guess so. They always treat me like a little girl."

"I'm sure it is only a sign of how much you mean to them."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard that before, but it gets annoying with everyone trying to run your life and marry you off and all that nonsense. Well, before recently anyway, I guess that's one thing I can't be tormented with anymore," she retorted bitterly. "Anyway, let's get back to work!"

He nodded, instructing her to begin again.

Her form was generally solid; she was doing it correctly with one or two minor errors. These errors, however slight, could throw her off when she incorporated a weapon into her style later.

They were like small off-key notes in a musical performance. They could be smoothed over, but the listener still heard them. In the present case an enemy could use the weakness and exploit it to her disadvantage. It had to be fixed.

Aside from that, she was quick. If she worked she might be able to put a bit more force behind her blows. He didn't expect much more improvement in that area, she could only be so strong, her frame was slight.

She would have to be efficient in other forms. Close, hand to hand combat would be a liability for her.

Something quick and dangerous - shuriken perhaps. Maybe, if she excelled, something with more weight, like kunai.

Coming to stand across from her, he mimicked her pose and motioned her forward to attack him.

He was, despite her speed, able to block her. He knew in what manner she was coming. She did not, to his surprise, deviate from her practiced form at all. He had expected something a bit more unpredictable. She was certainly the unpredictable sort.

He shook his head.

"You cannot attack the enemy that way. Have you been training long, Misao?"

She sighed. "Not really. There isn't anyone at the Aoiya to train me. Omasu and the others run the restaurant and when they do come with me they always end up giving up, saying they don't have the patience for it."

He nodded. "I see. We'll train in the morning tomorrow. I will speak to Aoshi-sama about staying at the Aoiya with you."

She looked up, eyes bright. "Really?"

He nodded.

Her smiling face and laughter were somewhat expected. Her joyous shout followed by her throwing her arms around him definitely wasn't.

"Thank you! You are so wonderful!" She drew away. "You're a bit weird, but still wonderful!"

He didn't question her. Yes, he _definitely _liked her. He could count the number of times he'd been hugged like that in his life on one hand. He could count without hands, it had never happened before today. He felt a part of him inside grow, his loyalty to her, aside from Aoshi-sama's directive.

Aoshi-sama had accepted him wholly, no matter his appearance and this girl, too, without seeing him had done the same. Moreso than even Aoshi-sama. He wondered what'd she'd say to his appearance, would she be appalled? Some little part of him told him it wouldn't matter to her at all.

He would protect her, this precious girl that belonged to Aoshi-sama, with his life.

* * *

Misao crumpled onto the futon mat. It smelled like him, but she didn't want to think about him. Ah, why did she have to remember what he smelled like?

She rolled over onto her back. The day after tomorrow she'd be going home. The day after tomorrow, it seemed like such a long time to wait.

At the same time, it was no longer her shining light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, she was rather dreading it. Not because she didn't want to go back, but because she felt… _shamed._

She was married but she felt… dirty. Okina had no doubt been told about the marriage and she was afraid of how they'd look at her. Not that it was exactly her fault but… she hadn't been strong enough to prevent it.

She'd understood the act of a man and woman as much as she was able before and after realizing what went where and how it all generally fit together she had rather lost interest. It hadn't seemed like something that was all that appealing, especially since pregnancy usually followed.

She was not particularly apt to have a baby. It just wasn't… right. Not for her and certainly not right now. The others would probably say she could barely take care of herself, let alone an infant.

It wasn't that she didn't want children at all but… how did one even know when they were ready for such a thing?

Not that she had a choice in the matter. She figured she could be growing a baby already since she'd been intimate with a man.

_Intimate_ was the word for it, too.

Ugh.

The thought made her tremble faintly.

She'd never really thought about whore houses and didn't much have an opinion on them, but if they spared her _wifely duties_ she was all for it. He could move in one for all she cared and shack up with a courtesan.

At the least though, Hannya treated her like a real student and she determined tomorrow she wouldn't be such an uncooperative idiot with him.

The only problem was her 'husband'.

She sighed heavily. She curled up and pulled a blanket over her.

* * *

Aoshi groaned as he sat up. The ground was cold, his muscles felt stiff. It would be dawn in a few minutes. The shop would be open by the time he got to town.

His marriage hadn't started out well, but he hoped to avoid outright hostility between himself and the girl. At the very least a gesture of goodwill, as was this, couldn't do anything to hurt the relationship, if "relationship" could be used to describe them and he wasn't sure it could.

The vendor he approached in town was an elderly man with a slightly stooped stature. He was yawning as Aoshi stepped up to him.

"I am Shinomori Aoshi. I have an order with you."

He'd prepared this days ahead of time. He'd predicted slightly more positive circumstances but it couldn't be helped, the gift was still hers whether she wanted it or not.

The man shuffled around a bit looking under a covered table and then through a stack of boxes. He came up empty handed, looking contemplative.

"Oh! I remember!" he exclaimed and then dove down, fishing through the bag he'd had on his shoulder moments ago. "Here!"

The vendor held up an elaborately decorated package and held it out to Aoshi.

"Wrapped just the way you wanted, Sir."

Aoshi stared at the parcel in his hands, pleased. He paid the remainder of his bill with the vendor, tucked the package under his arm and set off.

Misao was still a young girl and all girls, to his knowledge, liked gifts. He didn't expect to win her over and he didn't expect her to leap up in excitement and embrace him but nor did he expect it to be returned to him.

It was only a gesture of goodwill, an acknowledgement of sorts to her that he was recognizing her as his wife. Hopefully it would mean something, but if not to her, then it would certainly be noticed by the other ninja's.

* * *

"What? No! Come on! He's the one who messed it up!"

"No." Hannya's tone was firm.

She would just have to do it over again.

"But it took so long! If I have to do it all over again I won't have time to train!" she whined.

"If you don't do it over again, no one eats," he replied.

"I'll tell you what they can eat," she hissed lowly. "Fine, but don't come crawling to me with grimaces when it turns out lousy. I **hate **cooking!" she declared before stomping defiantly toward the kitchen.

Hannya just barely checked his amused laughter.

"Is it okay to be ordering her around like that?" Beshimi asked, scratching his head. "She is Aoshi-sama's wife."

"Aoshi-sama asked me to watch over her. I think it will do her good to spend some time in the kitchen," Hannya replied.

Moments later she stomped back. She picked up the pot of food she'd forgotten and shoved it toward Beshimi. "Take this outside and dump it and bring it back to me in the kitchen."

He blinked, glanced at Hannya, and nodded in agreement. Misao turned her vengeful stare toward Hannya. "Anything else you want me to do? Maybe clean the kitchen while I'm at it? Perhaps some laundry?"

"No, that is all for now. Thank you very much, Misao. We appreciate your help greatly."

She grumbled, looking thrown off by the compliment. "Yeah, fine."

Beshimi returned with an empty pot and handed it back to her. She smiled vengefully. "Thank you."

Twirling on her heel, she headed back to the kitchen to pick up working. If that idiot Hyokkotto hadn't come in and started adding stuff while she wasn't looking, this wouldn't have happened.

How was she to know she had a 'would-be' chef lurking around? She sighed heavily taking a quick inventory over her supplies. Terrific, now she didn't even have enough.

She headed back out once more just in time to catch Hannya before he left.

"Hey!"

He stopped.

"Can you send someone to the store? We don't have enough supplies anymore."

He nodded. "Beshimi, fetch Hyokkotto. Since he destroyed the first batch, he can buy the second round supplies."

Misao flashed a victorious, 'ha!' smile and turned to go back. "Send him to the kitchen first so I can tell him what to get," she chirped, already out the door.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time Aoshi returned to the base. Most of the rooms were unlit and dark. He presumed Misao had long since gone to bed.

He encountered Hyokkotto and Shikijou asleep outside, one on each side of the door, mouths open widely, snoring. He stepped by them heading inside.

On his way to the kitchen, he encountered Beshimi. He was seated cross legged, a set of dishes set out in front of him, his head down on the table. In fact, everyone seemed to be sleeping, what was going on here? He glanced around the sparsely decorated building, looking for someone that was awake. He was just about to head into the next room to go upstairs when he heard the in-drawn breath of a yawn.

He paused; waiting as Misao came stumbling out of the kitchen. Even she looked tired.

"What is going on here?" he asked.

She blinked, and rubbed her eyes. "Everyone fell asleep," she motioned lazily.

"I see that. Why?"

"Hyokkotto can't buy herbs, apparently. Knocked them all out cold."

He looked around at his fallen men. They weren't poisoned, were they?

She stumbled by him, wobbling uneasily as though suffering in a drunken stupor. He watched her disappear down another corridor before dropping his head. That girl...

He turned on his heel to follow, assuming she had simply climbed the stairs to head toward bed. As he came around he found her sitting with her back flush up against the wall, her legs strewn out into the hall way.

He stared at her a moment before kneeling down to scoop up the fallen girl. It looked as though she'd just gotten too tired, sat down, and fell dead asleep. He almost shook his head in sheer surprise. What a girl...

He placed the package over her body in his arms and walked her upstairs. He managed to slide the door open and deposited the slumbering female onto the unrolled futon.

She shifted, groaned and promptly rolled over, almost taking his package with her.

* * *

**THUMP**

Misao's eyes shot open. Had ... something just fallen? She blinked herself awake, sitting up. She had heard something, hadn't she? Did she dream it? What was it?

**THUMP**

What was that? She sat up. That wasn't a little thump, but a big THUMP. She peered around, she was alone. She didn't even know if Aoshi had returned the previous night, but he hadn't disturbed her.

There was a package laid there on the floor, though.

She yawned and pulled herself up, dropping the blankets to the floor. She kneeled down on the cold floor, examining the package. What was it? A small slip of paper laid to the side, cock-eyed and upside down where it'd fallen.

She reached for the tag. It read simply, "Misao."

It was hers, then? She reached for the knot, and unwound the fabric wrapping, pulling open the parcel. What was it?

It was a dull navy colored pattern that met her eyes. She reached for it, scooping up the silky fabric. Clothes!

Girly clothes!

She pulled it out to examine the item. A kimono? She groaned. Not only was there a kimono, included was an entire set of undergarments to go with it. She scowled, and people wondered why she didn't want to wear the rotten thing!

She stared down at her clothes, wondering if she really wanted to wear this thing. Hadn't she changed last night?

Now that she thought about it, she didn't remember walking up to bed either. She didn't really remember anything after walking into the kitchen to clean up for the night.

Just as she was set to put the thing back into its wrapping, the door slid open. She peered up, pausing as she did so. Her _husband_ stepped in, his eyes trained on the item in her hands.

"Is it unsuitable?"

What did that mean? Unsuitable? Was he asking if she thought it was ugly? Or maybe he was asking if she didn't like the style of the kimono. Not that she had any choice really, she couldn't wear the more elaborate furisode anymore, not she minded that at all. She'd never liked the furisode anyway those stupid sleeves were annoying.

"Um... "

"I would like you to wear it."

She shifted, looking away. Should she flat out refuse defiantly or meekly accept? If she'd learned anything at all it was that charging ahead blindly simply didn't do her much good with him. She needed to think this through. "I can't wear this, I've never put one on before."

Yes. Excellent answer, she thought to herself. But then, if he didn't insist what would the others think of her returning to the Aoiya in… men's clothes?

Ugh!

No!

"I will help you."

She blinked.

Excellent!

No… wait… she didn't want him to help. She didn't want to return to the Aoiya in men's clothes, but at the same time she didn't want him to help her. Yet, who else was there?

None of the others _could_ assist her, it would be inappropriate. She was stuck! Besides, what did she have to hide, she thought bitterly. He'd seen her naked already.

"Fine."

She shot him an uncertain look. She wasn't really sure what she thought of this guy. He was threatening, but non-threatening. She couldn't call him 'nice', but he wasn't overtly mean either. He didn't shove her, or hit her, despite how difficult she'd been. He hadn't actually even yelled at her.

He hadn't, since the wedding, actually physically hurt her. In fact, he had sort of avoided her. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Would you like me to leave while you change into your slip?"

She blinked.

Did she want him to leave?

Yes. Yes she did. She nodded.

"I will wait outside the door, don't take long. I want to leave soon."

He didn't spare her the courtesy of answering, he just left. She sighed once he was securely out of sight. She wasn't all that pleased about her current outfit, a man's yukata with the small, narrow sash at her waist. It was not very flattering. It was too long around her feet and it was ugly but that was a lesser problem.

Of course, once they saw in her in a married woman's kimono... Who was she kidding; there was no way Jiya didn't already know she was married to the nutcase outside the door.

She pulled herself up, reaching for the slip top and skirt. She might as well get dressed; she didn't want to give the guy something to complain about. Certainly not where her clothes were concerned, she'd cause him trouble later.

**THUMP**

What _was _that sound! She quickly shed the yukata and pulled on her garments. Stupid kimono's, she thought. She was just turning to reach for the blue silk, paying little mind to the elaborate embroidery along the hem and sleeves, when she felt the material being draped over her slender shoulders. She flinched at the sudden contact and told her heart to stop thundering in her chest from the unexpected fright.

She didn't need to look back to see who had sneaked up on her. Instead, she simply threaded her arms into the sleeves tucking it closed. The sooner she was dressed, the sooner he'd leave and better yet, the sooner he'd stop touching her.

He reached under her arms pulling the obi around her and she frowned.

This guy had no idea what he was doing, she could tell already. Just watch him tie it into a gigantic bow around her back and tuck the ends around her belly. She'd walk out of here looking like the biggest idiot on the planet.

To her surprise, he didn't wrap it around her oddly or in the weird half-bow she feared. She tried not to tremble at the touch of the big hands as they smoothed the fabric around her gently, without a trace of the roughness he had used when he had gripped her hips a couple nights before. She waited, holding the fabric as he directed, feeling absolutely ridiculous, while he fiddled with it.

It seemed like forever, twisting, turning, tightening, tucking and tying, before those hands slid off her. As far as she could tell she was missing a couple of decorative ties for her obi, but didn't fuss too much over it. She didn't really care how it looked anyway as far as fancy went. When she got back to the Aoiya, she was tossing it into the closet anyway.

**THUMP**

"What IS that!" she asked shortly.

"Shikijou and Hannya are training outside."

As though _that_ explained it, she thought, shaking her head. He stepped back, turning her by the shoulders to face him. His eyes trailed slowly down her frame as though she were being appraised.

He didn't say anything, he merely turned to go. She thought he'd simply walk out and not say anything, but he stopped in the now open doorway.

"I want to leave for the Aoiya in no less than an hour."

Without so much as a backwards glance, he stepped out, leaving the door open. She guessed he wanted her to follow him. With a definite frown, she did so.

"Sure, don't tell a girl she looks nice or anything," she mumbled sourly. Not that she wanted a compliment from _him_, but would he it kill him? Really?

* * *

Aoshi watched her from the corner of his eye. She was walking along beside him, rather subdued. Her gaze was straight ahead of her, chin up. Her shoulders were not slumped.

He could not pinpoint why, he knew very little about Misao personally. How was he to know if her silences were unusual? Perhaps it was simply because he expected her to be happy about going home.

Was she worried about something? Did she dread his certification by Okina? Was it that? Was this her disapproval of him as Okashira? Did she plan to make trouble over it?

The thought bothered him. If she wouldn't obey she'd need to be punished. He'd have to reserve her punishment privately and yet at the same time he couldn't allow her to be willfully disobedient.

He turned his gaze ahead. There was nothing he could do about her immediately, he'd wait. She was as controlled as he could get her for the moment.

Hannya and the others: Hyokkotto, Shikijou, and Beshimi, were trailing along behind him. No one had said a word since the journey had begun. Not to her, him, or among themselves.

With just him and his men, it wouldn't have been strange. Conversation wasn't something that flowed much between them, they were all friends in a circle of amiable silence.

She hadn't eaten anything at breakfast. She hadn't said anything to anyone either.

He didn't know what to make of it. He should've been happy she wasn't making trouble; somehow the thought wasn't very comforting. If he returned her to Okina with her behaving this way ... would it reflect even worse on him?

He felt the tension pull even tighter as, down the street, the Aoiya came into view.

* * *

Author's Notes: The relationship between Hannya & Misao is completely platonic. I recall someone mentioning it before, don't make too much of the opening scenes in chapter one or Hannya's remarks about her being "cute". I tried to remedy that this time around.

As for the AM annulment, it would not be to Aoshi's advantage to dissolve his marriage to Misao, it would only reflect worse upon him. Remember now, this is something of a campaign to win over the Oniwabanshuu and Misao is very likely to be inclined _against_ him even before their marriage and most definitely afterwards were he to annul it. My thoughts were less toward current social rules of the day and more toward Aoshi's personal values and feelings toward the group and Misao as part of that group.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hope in the Hollows**

Part VII: **Homeward, We Stumble

* * *

**

Misao was torn. Should she run ahead to the Aoiya? She was itching to do just that, but would he say something? Did she care? What would _they_ say when she got there?

It wasn't him though that had her faltering so badly. It was whether or not she wanted to go running up to the Aoiya dressed like this.  
She knew, deep down, she wasn't the same girl she'd been when she left here and she was afraid they'd know it the moment they looked at her.

That's what kept her feet walking at her current pace. As the Aoiya got closer though, she felt her hesitation grow. Her footsteps slowed and she stopped.

No.

Not now.

Not with **him**.

The others stopped behind her, and ahead of her, and HE turned around.

She looked away toward the path that led into the heart of town. She hadn't been there in a while; it would be nice to get out, anything to get away from him.

Without a glance she turned toward the path. She hiked up the skirt of her kimono finding it too tight to move fast enough and ran.

No one tried to stop her and words couldn't describe her relief. Inexplicably, tears bubbled in her eyes and she couldn't bring herself to stop them.

* * *

Aoshi frowned as he watched her go, again, foolishly wandering off on her own. The girl was one giant liability. 

"Should I follow her?" Hannya asked voice low.

"Yes."

Aoshi turned back to the Aoiya only to see Okina had come out front with the women flanking him. All of them were staring out toward where a fleeing Misao could be seen. The view was open and wide giving a good, disheartening view of her.

The women muttered something quickly, but when Okina didn't respond they tore off their aprons and immediately ran after Misao. The tension in the air crackled and Aoshi proceeded forward. Okina looked forward ready to meet him. The silence between them was awkward. The Aoiya was darkened. The sign on the door behind Okina read, "Closed for the Day".

"I've been expecting you." Okina's voice was tight, but controlled. "Please, come in. Everyone necessary is already gathered."

Okina didn't mention Misao, so neither did Aoshi. He followed Okina inside the others a step behind.

* * *

She ran, not knowing where she was going only that town was no longer her destination. What was wrong with her? 

Why now?

Why?

She bowed her head, bringing a hand up to her face.

She could...

She choked on her tears, trying to stem them off.

She could handle this...

She could.

"MISAO!"

Footsteps and frantic voices only caused her panic.

No!

She didn't want them to see her this way! That's why she'd left! That's why she was avoiding it for now!

She looked around, frantic, for a way to escape. For something! Anything! Reprieve wasn't to be found, however, and the footsteps got closer. Before she could think of something two sets of arms were thrown around her and she was crushed between two bodies.

"MISAO!" They cried in an awful unison, sounding half choked on their own tears.

She could barely hear their words as they both spoke at the same time, words half croaked. She wasn't sure how to feel about the onslaught of emotion being poured down on her.

Omasu and Okon, finally putting themselves back together, drew away from her and each of them took one of her hands. Gently, they tugged her wordlessly toward town, drying their tears. Downtown, three red eyed girls sat down to tea.

Aoshi stared out the Aoiya window. It had been rather cool as of late. Winter seemed to be approaching rapidly. It had been just short of two hours now and she had not returned.

He had wanted to at least _see_ her before he left. He was heading off into some minor work in Tokyo but he expected the trip would be long. She wasn't even going to be here to see him go.

It wasn't really a sentimental thought.

He wanted her to know Hannya was staying behind to handle her training. He heard the shuffled feet of Okina as he approached, stopping several feet away. The old man looked stressed but he was clearly still coherent and competent. He did not know the basis for Okina's suddenly turning on him perhaps it was the rumors. He didn't really care.

"Are you staying long at the Aoiya?"

Okina wanted him gone already? He truly was a disappointment to this man, wasn't he? It hurt more than he wished to acknowledge and so he pushed the thought away.

"I am leaving today." He turned to face the man who had been one of his instructors as a boy. He reached into a pocket and withdrew a small package, tossing it to Okina. "Give it to Misao when she returns."

Okina nodded.

"Hannya will remain at the Aoiya."

Okina appeared to be on the brink of outrage. "You are leaving a spy here?"

Aoshi stared at him a moment longer. "I have spies everywhere, of which you are one, I might remind you."

Okina's lips thinned, but he could not argue.

"Hannya will be overseeing Misao's training."

Okina sighed heavily, clearly expecting something of the sort. "I did not want Misao very heavily involved in Oniwabanshuu business. That is why I have tried to keep her from learning such things; she is hasty in judgment, far too quick to rash action, and prone to injury."

He could understand Okina's concern for the girl, but it was now a liability for them all. She was not properly trained and she was beyond naive in the workings beyond the world of the Aoiya. She had no idea of the danger they were in.

"It is not possible to indulge that view any longer. She is not a child; it is beyond time she grew up," Aoshi murmured, stepping away. "I will be leaving now."

Hannya watched his long-time companions walk away without him. It was an awful feeling, a powerful, mighty emotion that boiled over in ones chest. There was nothing quite like it.

He was being left behind for the good of the group. He was honored to be entrusted with Misao's care even if it meant separation from Aoshi-sama. The exile was temporary. He was determined to make something good of the girl, to make Aoshi-sama see her as something more than a campaign tool of sorts.

"You must be Hannya?"

He turned wearily to see the old man that ran the Aoiya. Aoshi-sama had told him this man had trained him in his youth.

"I am Hannya, Misao's instructor and guardian while Aoshi-sama is away," he confirmed, eyeing the man much shorter than himself.

"I am Okina. I run the Aoiya. Aoshi-sama has told me you are to be Misao's instructor. I am curious to know the kind of things you will be teaching her."

Hannya thought a moment before finding no harm in it. The older man was not permitted to interfere. "Very well," he agreed, looking out over the horizon. His companions were now out of sight.

"Well, come then. Let us have some tea and chat. I will show you about and introduce you."

He turned and followed the man inside. Hannya could not recall Aoshi-sama making any negative comments about Okina past those that dealt with their immediate situation.

Inside, they stopped by the kitchen where he was quickly introduced to Shiro and Kuro. Both men stared at him cautiously. He wondered if they would hold him as partly to blame for Misao's kidnapping and subsequent marriage. He wouldn't be surprised so he braced himself for that possibility.

"Kuro and Shiro work in the kitchen. Omasu and Okon also work there, but they are with Misao, you can meet them later. Boys, this is Hannya, he will be staying with us."

They nodded uneasily and Hannya did the same. There would be no mirth to pass about here.

"The dojo is out back. We keep the weapons there in recessed panels long the back wall. There should be a broad enough selection for when you start working with Misao."

Okina hobbled along and Hannya followed politely listening.

* * *

"So, you're okay?" 

Misao peered up at her friends over her tea cup. "I'm fine."

"You're sure? You really worried us, crying like that."

Misao frowned. "Sorry. I didn't mean to it just..." she trailed off, sniffling.

It would all be ok. She could handle this. He would probably be gone when she got back anyway.

It was, what it was, and what it was, was over. They sat there for some time, sipping tea and picking at a couple of the almond flavored cookies. Omasu and Okon attempted conversation, bringing her up to date on all she'd missed, but it hadn't been more than a few days, so nothing major had happened.

When silence fell over the table for the fourth time in under ten minutes Misao stood.

"Let's go back to the Aoiya. I'm sure the others are worried."

The two older women seemed relieved they wouldn't have to deal with the awkward pauses anymore. Misao walked ahead of them, leaving them to pay the bill. Once outside she beamed a smile at them and took off yelling something about losers who couldn't keep up.

Maybe she could force some cheerfulness into herself but nothing could bring back the past. In a few days her life had been turned upside down and there was no way to turn it back.

* * *

"Close, but not correct. Try again. You will not proceed to weapon training until you have successfully mastered this," Hannya instructed.

"I tried that! You told me not ten minutes ago that it was _wrong_ and so I tried to fix it again. You showed me how and apparently it was still wrong…"

He stepped back from her patiently.

"There is a parcel of rice on order in town. I believe you know the correct vendor. Go fetch it."

"W-what?" she asked dumbly.

"Until you respect me as your instructor, I will not teach you. Go on."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he had already vanished out the door.

She was left to gape at the open, empty doorway. When she realized he wasn't coming back she dragged her feet to the door and headed into town. She'd get the rice all right and then she'd throw it at his face!

He was absolutely infuriating! Always so calm and rational, he never yelled, he just watched her and commented, watched and commented, it was repetitive and boring and aggravating to the extreme. But she would master this and, she determined, she'd behave herself more when she got back.

* * *

Misao sat alone in her room, staring at the package. Jiya had given her the item just after she'd declared she was heading to bed.

She glanced at the package, pulling the knot of the fabric open. Inside was a small box. She un-tucked the little flaps and stared inside.

Light, green mossy material greeted her. Turning it upside down she dumped the contents of the box onto the fabric square.

She fingered through the plant material and came across a silver circle. She picked it up, staring at the plain finished ring.

What was it for? There were no stones embedded in the surface. There was no elaborate engraving. It was merely a silver ring, smooth and cool to the touch.

She peered around, but there was no note, just the ring. She had never been one for jewelry. Most of it she'd seen had been sophisticated western style items that were very costly.

She slid the ring on one finger and then another until she found one that fit securely. She was certain he'd given it to her for a reason but she couldn't fathom what. She slipped it off her hand and dropped it back into the box. Standing, she dropped the box into the bottom of a drawer in her bureau.

She sighed and straightened. She still had to lay out her futon for bed and get undressed. Several silent minutes later, she crawled into familiar bedding, unable to contain the smile at the feel of her own bed and blankets.

It was so great to be home.

Home to a place where memories of him weren't there to taint her and his scent didn't mark her bedding.

Sleepiness caught her soon after and she drifted off content, the ring forgotten.

* * *

Aoshi lifted his head, staring up into the sky. It was a still night, no breeze to stir the air around him. No chill to cool his body, it was just a moderate, dark night.

The others were all ahead in the next town, already in place for their current mission. It was often best to split up groups and have them camp separately. Camp fires were frowned upon and leaving any scrap of presence behind could be terminal. It was extremely worrisome.

Since this morning he'd sent out orders that all traveling Oniwabanshuu members should conceal themselves in the evenings and to never travel in groups exceeding three members. They were to avoid wearing the standard uniform and to blend as comfortably as possible with the local surroundings including the townsfolk. He was not certain yet if it would be at all effective.

Tonight, he was alone.

He hadn't been alone in quite some time just staring up at the sky. But no longer was he completely alone. Now the young, chaotic female he'd coerced into marriage was back at the Aoiya under the guidance of Okina. His path was no longer his own, but hers also.

He remembered his own days training with Okina. He recalled the meditation sessions on the beach, his training in the water, the squishy sand between his toes. He remembered Okina scolding him and making him fetch water and kindling for fires, forcing him to catch the fish, and run up and down the beach.

His perfectionism had peaked during that point. He might deem the trait an unfortunate side-effect to the two long summers he'd spent with Okina along the shore.

He could hardly imagine how Misao had come out of Okina's care so different. It was easier to train children not your own, and Misao would always be Okina's daughter in a sense, wouldn't she?

The man obviously held great affection for her and hadn't wanted her exposed to the sometimes seedy underbelly of ninja work.

He'd seen his youthful idealistic visions shattered, replaced by the cold realism of everyday life. He was uncertain, as of yet, if he was pleased that Misao had not been spoiled by reality or if he was displeased that she was so naïve of hard fact. She was sweet and young and untouched by the true cruelties to be found in the world.

In other circumstances, he'd want to keep her that way. She was a sweet girl, he imagined, when left to her own devices. But she was also a ninja. Such a romantic world view was a burden to him and the others. Crushing it was the most sensible course of action. Sending her out to work _immediately_ might cure some of that idealism, but it would also be a grave risk.

The death of Makimachi Misao was not something he could afford. The backlash from such an event would be his undoing and likely lead to the complete disbandment of the ninja group.

They had been suffering for some time now. The numbers were slowly decreasing, slowly and steadily as they broke off at the edges, sinking into the new peaceful era becoming farmers and merchants. The arrests, the deaths, the smear campaigns, the town riots, the explosions… they were all taking their toll.

He really was quite tired. He lowered his head and his eyes drifted closed. It was interesting the girl could exhaust him and she wasn't even in the vicinity.

* * *

"No, that's wrong."

Misao stared at Hannya a long moment before throwing her head back and screaming.

Loud.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong!" she snapped impatiently. "That time it was right!"

"No," he calmly replied. "It was not. Please try again."

"Fine, you ugly-monkey, but this time when I get it wrong-"

He interrupted her smoothly. "The dojo floor is dusty. Go wash it."

"W-what?" she gaped.

"Until you respect me as your instructor, I will not teach you. Go on."

"N-Now wait a second! I'm not washing the floor! You did this before with the… the rice!"

He nodded calmly. "So I did. We will not return to training until the floor is washed. If you finish satisfactorily, perhaps we will continue tomorrow."

He turned and she stared after him before kicking everything in sight on her trek to the dojo.

Inside, she punched the wall until both fists were red and she could feel the pain all the way to her wrists. With an angry growl she walked to the center of the room and began the practice kata Hannya had demonstrated for her.

At least they'd moved on to something different. Not that she was doing a great deal better with this one than the last. She wasn't even certain if she'd gotten the last one correct.

The only thing that ever came out of his mouth was, "No, that's wrong." Every day!

She practiced the set of movements until her muscles screamed. Tomorrow she'd regret that, she thought. Bitter and exhausted she headed for the utility closet and fetched the bucket. She trudged outside to fill it, running into Okon on the way.

"What are you doing there?" Okon asked, changing her course in the yard to trail along behind Misao.

"Washing the floor of the dojo."

"Oh." The older woman paused beside her. "I was going to do that later. Should I ask why you're being so helpful? Did you spill something?"

"No, Hannya's making me wash it."

Okon turned away to hide her smile. "Ooohh, why's that?"

"I don't know," the girl petulantly replied.

This time, Okon smiled directly at her. "Are you sure you don't know?"

"I might've yelled. I might've behaved childishly. I might've called him an ugly monkey."

Okon nodded encouragingly, checking her laughter. "And what did he say to you?"

Misao's mouth twisted into a sneer. "'_Until you respect me as your instructor, I will not teach you.'"_

Okon stepped closer and slid her arm across the younger female's shoulder. "Are you being respectful? He may have been assigned to you by our new Okashira, but he isn't like the rest of us. We have spent many years at the Aoiya and have seen little action.

"But Hannya is a man of war and great experience. Have you thought of all the things he probably knows and could impart to you? You are not respecting his authority over you or his ability to teach you, when you do that, maybe the chores will stop."

Misao sighed. "I hadn't thought of it that way. He probably does know a lot of stuff, doesn't he?"

"I would imagine so, yes. Good luck on your washing!"

Misao scowled as Okon slipped away leaving her again alone. Maybe she was being immature.

Er…. Maybe she was being _a lot_ immature.

Why hadn't she realized that before? Hannya was old enough to have participated in the war. He probably knew and had done _heaps_ of stuff! Plus, he'd really always been decent towards her, hadn't he?

She trudged back to the dojo with her bucket full of water.

She'd apologize before dinner about the 'ugly monkey' remark.

* * *

Mid-morning the next day Misao found herself distressed. She couldn't find Hannya anywhere and she'd searched _everywhere._ She had come to the disheartening conclusion that he wasn't on the Aoiya grounds.

He was permitted to go where he wished, but after his assigning her the floor washing, she hadn't been able to find him yesterday either. So her would-be apology had never been issued.

She'd spent over a half hour unsuccessfully bugging Okina but he hadn't any information to give her. Now, as she sat glumly on the front porch she couldn't decide what to do with herself.

The Aoiya, being outside of town, caught mostly travelers rather than the regular denizens of Kyoto. They often served to whole groups of travelers. Drunks and beggars couldn't be shooed away fast enough sometimes.

She yawned absently blissfully unaware of the world. She had just raised her hand to rub her eyes when a breath of air whizzed by her cheek and something embedded with a thud into the wooden doorframe by her head. She jumped, startled, and glanced around wildly, but there was no one within view.

Terrified, she ripped the blade from the door and fled inside shoving it closed so hard the frame rattled. The metal was warm in her hand, peering down she held a kunai at least four inches in length. Wrapped around the handle was a slip of paper tied with a dark brown leather strip.

Anxious, she fumbled with the knot but it was tight. She glanced at the door uneasily and moved further inside the building as though expecting someone to charge through at her.

In another room she sat back against a far wall and rolled the leather strip off, giving up on the knot. The paper unwound easily and spilled over her fingers curling as it came undone.

"_Oniwabanshuu – _

"_We want a meeting. We have information for you. _

_--Senada"_

Senada?

Standing quickly, she ran to find Okina.

* * *

AN: This story and another story have merged which is where the whole Senada plot line comes from. You'll understand later. 


	8. Chapter 8

Hope in the Hollows

Chapter 8: Travel in your Future

* * *

"_A missive was delivered to the Aoiya in a most startling manner a few days past. It was wrapped about the handle of a kunai and tossed at Misao's head. The Senada ninja clan wishes to meet._

_-Respectively,_

_Okina"_

Aoshi stared at the paper, reading it over once more. He had been concerned about how Hannya would be received at the Aoiya but he hadn't for a moment thought of a rival clan interfering. They had enough trouble with the government, he didn't need anymore interlopers.

With a sigh, he stood. Hannya was unavailable, Hyokkotto lacked the finesse and Shikijou liked to resolve things with his fists when the other party became difficult. Beshimi then was the best choice.

He paid no mind to the noise about him in the crowded tavern. His tea had turned cold but he still reached for it. Shikijou was late and he hoped that did not indicate another problem with the mission which had been, on the whole, fairly simple. Aoshi wanted information on the current whereabouts of TsukiokaKatsuhiro. The subject was nineteen years of age and a _former_ contact of the Oniwabanshuu troop near Tokyo.

Ten and a half months previous, Okina had given his permission for the Tokyo group to assist Tsukioka in a project that had been described as, "data extraction from the 44 West Haven", a space that was currently on loan to a western diplomat visiting the country.

Too late was Okina informed of the purpose, motive, and operational tactics of Tsukioka's group. In the stillness of one evening, 44 West Haven became a charred square of debris as explosives lit the sky and smoke choked the would-be rescuers that ran to the scene.

Tsukioka's group sustained no casualties, but 4 Oniwaanshuu had died in the effort. Government troops had swooped down on the scene and 8 persons were rounded up, not including the dead.

There was nothing left of the building, all within had died, including the foreign visitors. Outrage erupted overnight as the local officials "ousted" the Tsukioka group and the Oniwabanshuu to the general public, issuing edicts for their immediate arrest. They were all wanted fugitives.

* * *

"Our leader has something to offer." The voice was raspy. It was what he thought a snake would sound like if the animal could speak.

"Why is your leader offering?" Beshimi asked, standing back a pace with his arms crossed.

The ninja across from him, dressed in blacks and grays with his face covered, stood the same way. There was an uneasy tension between them, an edgy, temporary truce.

Beshimi had come on orders from Aoshi-sama. It had been a mad rush getting everyone into place and settling the rabid speculation among their group. It was different with Hannya gone. Hannya was a peacemaker, a logical thinker, and everyone looked to him especially during Aoshi-sama's brooding silences which often left the others unsettled.

"She said that matter was between her and Makimachi-san and that it was no one else's business."

Beshimi nodded curtly. If he asked further it would be interfering in Aoshi-sama's personal business as long as it involved Makimachi Misao. The stately name was well known among the secret groups of Japan.

"What does she want with Aoshi-sama?"

The Senada ninja was taller than Beshimi and thin. Bone thin... lithe, almost to the point of unhealthy. Beshimi found himself weary of the man, the tension between them was making his muscles ache from the stiffness of his own posture. The Senada Clan had never been superior to the Oniwabanshuu but since they had retreated to their mountain stronghold they had not been heard from. Who knew what they were doing on top that mountain? He couldn't see the man's face but he could all but feel the man's grin as it stretched upon his hidden lips.

"We currently have in our possession Tsukioka Katsuro. Our leader is willing to hand him over to you before she takes advantage of the reward being offered for him."

Tsukioka Katsuro?!

How had the Senada's gotten hold of him?!

"I shall tell him directly," Beshimi replied.

They shared a curt nod.

"Here." The Senada withdrew a small white folded paper. "This is for Shinomori, his direct invitation to the Tower. It expires in one month." The man tossed the envelope at Beshimi's feet and stepped backward. "She'll be waiting for a response. There is a pigeon handler in Tokyo by the name of Koro, he's next to the wood block stand on the edge of the food market." In a silent leap upward, the ninja vanished with barely a rustle of foliage in his parting.

Beshimi reached for the envelope and tucked it into his garment. The anxious feeling he'd had when he arrived didn't dissipate as the other man left. One month only... Beshimi quickly fled. He had to notify Aoshi-sama at once.

* * *

She linked her fingers together behind her back awkwardly and fidgeted.

"I'm sorry about yesterday and stuff, well more than yesterday. I'm sorry I've been acting like… well, I'm sorry I called you an ugly monkey and that I've been disrespectful. I wasn't thinking."

Hannya turned his eyes up to the girl through his mask. She was still fidgeting, swaying and shifting on her feet. She cast her eyes up at the ceiling and then back at him as though unsure where she should stare.

"You've had a change of heart then?" he prompted. "What brought that about?"

"Okon and I were talking. I didn't… I wasn't thinking about all the stuff you knew that you could teach me. The others, you know, they've been at the Aoiya for a long time. They don't really have all that much outside experience. Plus, I know I'm a difficult person to handle, most people really don't have that kind of patience and I talk when I shouldn't talk and when I get aggravated I say stuff I don't mean at all and I'm sorry because of that, too."

He nodded solemnly. "You've decided to amend your attitude then?"

"Yeah," she nodded earnestly.

He stood in one slow, languid movement and began to walk away. "I see, very well then. Let's test your newfound respect."

She scrambled to follow him. His footsteps, she noted, were larger and longer than her own. In the courtyard just outside the backdoors he was waiting for her. His white mask was shiny in the bright sun and the demon teeth glinted.

"Show me you've been practicing."

She spread her knees shoulder length apart to steady her body and went through the movements of the kata.

He watched her critically but she was denied an expression by his mask. She was forced to wait for his words or to watch his body for signs of his impression. He, however, remained standing perfectly still the whole time, his arms crossed.

"Notable," he acknowledged. "We will move on then."

* * *

"_Shinomori-san,_

"_Tsukioka was found injured at a soumen stand near Nara. I have decided to offer him to you. _

"_I will host you and your followers at the Tower for a duration to be determined upon your acceptance. A response is required to this missive._

"_Should you accept, I would be honored if you bring Makimachi with you. _

_- Senada Misanagi" _

Several long moments of silence followed the reading. Beshimi had given him a brief relaying the conversation and the letter and quickly scampered away. Aoshi stared.

He had not thought much on the relationship between Misao and Misanagi. In fact, he'd forgotten all about it. He had thought it ancient history. The Oniwabanshuu and the Senada had once been allied many years ago but since the death of both of Misao's parents that alliance had died an uneasy death.

All those years ago… what _did_ Misao know about her family?

He sighed softly and quickly made for the table where his writing materials were laid out. He'd been penning correspondence all morning.

"_Senada, _

"_I shall leave two days from today from Tokyo and arrive as soon as possible. Misao is currently unavailable. _

_-Shinomori." _

He would not ask Misao to come. He was not aware that she even knew of her relations to the Senada Clan of ninjas nor was he about to enlighten her. Should she find herself anymore disenchanted with him than presently he didn't want her seeking solace with another group. He wanted to be all she had; he was not going to be providing escape options for her.

He wondered absently what she'd done with the ring and how she was doing with Hannya. Or perhaps more accurately, how was Hannya coping with her.

Standing, he took the note and headed out. The pigeon carrier was easy to find. The man was middle aged and skinny, squinting his eyes against the sun.

"Good day, sir. How can I help?"

Aoshi slipped the note from his pocket. "I have a message to deliver for Senada."

The man's smile thinned. "Ah, yes. Are you one of Shinomori's?"

Aoshi nodded slightly, what the man didn't know he wouldn't tell him.

"I've a message for you, arrived this morning. '_Be wary of Kyoto.'_" The merchant's face was impassive, but his voice grave.

Kyoto?

Aoshi handed over the note and watched the man attach the paper to the cylinder and send it off with the pigeon.

"Thank you," Aoshi murmured before turning away.

The message's eerie words echoed in his head. '_Be wary of Kyoto.' _

He would send a warning later.

* * *

Misao woke suddenly. Something felt strangely wrong… she thought she heard a crackle of sound but…she sat up and glanced about. It had almost sounded like a crackle of fire…

sniff

She tested the air, did she smell smoke? There was a faint scent of it in the air, not strong… had something caught fire? Was the Aoiya on fire???

She shot from her bed and onto her feet. She pulled her kimono on clumsily, tying an awkward knot with the nearest length of material she could find. She dashed to her doorway and yanked it open. There was sound downstairs, sound that shouldn't be… Voices.

"_Here. This is definitely the place."_

"_Search it!" _

She was just about to step out and investigate when she was yanked backwards, inside her room and her door quickly shut in front of her.

A large, cold gloved hand was pressed over her mouth and she recognized the striped print on the arms. She didn't struggle.

Hannya.

"Silence, Misao, there are intruders. Anything you want to take with you, grab it now, we are escaping."

She whirled around to face him as he loosed his hold on her. "We can't just leave! What about the others?" she whispered hastily.

"The Aoiya has been discovered as an Oniwabanshuu base, the government officers are downstairs now; we must go!"

"But-"

"NOW!" he hissed and she ran to her dresser and quickly ransacked through it. She could hear footsteps on the stairs. In the bottom drawer she spotted the tiny box containing her ring and she grabbed for it and a few other things. Unexpectedly, Hannya grabbed her and she was yanked out her window just before her door was thrown open. In the tree, high up, they hid.

Misao watched; Hannya's gloved hand was again pressed over her mouth as if fearing she might scream out. She stayed very tense, her back pressed against Hannya as speculations bloomed in her mind. What was going on? Were they others safe? Had they escaped? They hadn't really discussed an exit strategy should the building be discovered… or had the others?

Many long minutes later she saw the uniformed men appear out front. They were leaving and she saw Okina with them. He was led ahead of them, his hands bound. A prisoner. Tears bubbled in her eyes.

"Jiya," she murmured into Hannya's glove.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. She could feel it in her throat, her feet, her wrists, she could feel it everywhere. Her temples pulsed painfully. The others were nowhere in sight, had they escaped? What about Okina? Misao, for not the first time, knew what it was like to be paralyzed with fear.

"Calm yourself. All will be well," Hannya murmured softly to her. "In times such as these it is not uncommon for groups to split. The others will be fine. Ease yourself."

She tried to nod, tried to concentrate but she didn't like the strategy. She wanted everyone to be together. But logically, she understood. They had a greater chance of survival this way, a greater chance of freedom. With her safe, Hannya guided her down to the ground. They sneaked behind the shed where he produced a box and turned his back to her. She watched, baffled, as he pulled on a hat and other things, sliding a dusty brown yukata over his uniform. When he turned back, she was staring at a stranger's face.

"Wow," she breathed. "You're really good."

"There are still officers in the building and on the grounds, be silent," he murmured. Taking her wrist, he sneaked her away.

Hours later, a pigeon arrived to find the Aoiya empty. The important missive attached to it leg, undeliverable. The message inside was far too late to save anyone.


End file.
